


drunk on the idea of you, baby

by corduroywords



Series: drunk keef [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beef Boy!Shiro, Drunk Keith (Voltron), Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mom Stranger!Shiro, i wrote this for you, keith just really really really needs shiro to know hes hot, keith: but i love you, shiro:please. please keith it's been 5 hours, to all my babes out there upset about s8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corduroywords/pseuds/corduroywords
Summary: Shiro might grow just a bit attached to the trashed boy in the corner booth with pretty eyes that can't eat a burger.Shiro watches in awe as he picks it up again, and slowly, carefully, begins to unhinge his jaw in a terrifying power move and moves the burger towards his open mouth. Years of flight and accuracy training has Shiro knowing right away it’s not going to make it. He keeps watching though, on the edge of his seat as the boy keeps moving it closer, closer, until it bumps into his cheek, a good five inches from his target.





	drunk on the idea of you, baby

**Author's Note:**

> you're allowed to be sad. you're allowed to take a break. you're allowed to write to cope. you're allowed to write about things that make you happy. you're allowed to cry over your keyboard and write for five hours about keith not being able to eat a burger. it's called self-care.

He’s been trying to eat the burger for five minutes. 

Shiro watches on with steadily growing horror as the boy slowly tilts it from side to side. He’s obviously trashed as hell, with another boy across from him turned into the corner of the booth, asleep with his mouth open. 

He’d first noticed when he heard strange quiet cooing and tongue clicking sounds from where he was sitting at a counter stool, nursing a milkshake. Matt had noticed too from behind the counter and pointed towards a corner booth. “Dude. That table’s fucking trashed as hell.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for drunk and hungover people to stumble into the diner in odd hours, but they were usually tired and grumpy with a craving for hash browns and a regret for their existence. Shiro was used to lifeless eyes when he visits Matt during his night shift, not—

“Shh…” Matt had murmured suddenly. “Listen.” Shiro scrunched his eyebrows together and squinted at the red vinyl back of the corner booth, and sure enough, a few moments later, there was the clicking sound. It sounds soft, gentle, like someone was trying to soothe a scared animal. 

“What’s happening?” Shiro whispered back. 

“I don’t know,” Matt said, grinning. “But you’re going to go find out.” Shiro got a distinct impression that Matt knew more than he was letting on. 

Shiro narrowed his eyes. He tended to be a bit more of a pushover when he’s with Matt, but he felt suddenly as though he should stay stubborn. “Whatever you want me to do—”

“You’re doing,” Matt finished in a matter-of-fact manner, ducking down to pull something out from behind the counter, and he didn’t even have time to react before Matt was shoving an apron and a notepad at him, loaded with threats and bribes that he spits out like he’s been preparing for this. _“You’d make such a cute waiter,”_ he said in a baby voice, then he shoved Shiro towards the table.

And that’s how he finds himself standing in front of the boy with the burger.

The boy doesn’t even seem to notice he’s there. The cooing and clicking turns out to be coming from him, and towards the burger. 

Shiro just—stands there, arms at his side. He registers faintly that the boy is cute, in a classic, pretty way. His hair is messy and he’s wearing a leather jacket falling off his shoulders, revealing a mussed up tank top underneath, and Shiro is having an increasingly difficult time connecting this bad boy vibe with the man cooing at a hamburger with a soft, adoring expression. 

“What the _fuck,_ ” he mutters under his breath, and then curiosity overtakes him and he slides in across from the boy, beside the sleeping one. 

Somehow, the boy still only has eyes for the burger. He has it in a gentle and loose grip with both hands, moving it up, down; it looks as if he’s examining it. Every once in a while, he’ll shove it towards his mouth suddenly—but he’ll always either forget to open it or drop the burger onto the table; in which case he’ll assemble it again with uncoordinated movements, humming, and pick it up again. 

It’s a travesty. 

Shiro watches in awe as he picks it up again, and slowly, carefully, begins to unhinge his jaw in a terrifying power move and moves the burger towards his open mouth. Years of flight and accuracy training has Shiro knowing right away it’s not going to make it. He keeps watching though, on the edge of his seat as the boy keeps moving it closer, closer, until it bumps into his cheek, a good five inches from his target. 

Undeterred, the boy turns it upside down with both hands still on it; he turns both his hands outward and frowns when he realizes that he has to let go of the burger if he wants to have a proper grip, so, of course, he releases it suddenly with what sounds like a whispered apology. It drops to the ground, and then the boy makes the cooing noises again towards the floor as if then the burger will listen and let him eat it. 

This is the most pain Shiro’s been in in ages. He’s this close— _this close_ to either beg him to let him buy him a new one or let him feed it to him when the boy’s head shoots up to make direct eye contact with Shiro, hand stilled in caressing the now soggy bun on the ground. 

Shiro freezes. 

“Wow,” the boy mouths. Shiro thinks briefly that his eyes are really pretty, before opening his mouth to apologize but then burger boy’s hand shoots out with terrifying speed for a drunk man romancing a hamburger towards Shiro and he resists the urge to flinch. It slows right before it makes contact with his shoulder though, and then the boy looks confused in a frankly heartbreaking manner, mouth puckered to one side in thought. It seems like eons before he nods slowly to himself and glances towards the sleeping boy. Right. Bad hand-eye. 

The boy absentmindedly pats Shiro’s shoulder twice before making a sudden move to get the other boy’s attention, waving and jabbing at him. He wakes up, sputtering, before squinting at Shiro and then burger boy suddenly moves to hastily whisper to the boy across the table. It’s quite clear that the sleeping boy was soberer than the burger boy because he manages to keep a steady, quiet, discreet tone, but burger boy—

“He’s _really hot!”_ Shiro hears, and it’s spoken in a whispered tone but way too loud, but of course burger boy doesn’t notice because burger boy is trashed. Shiro tries not to flush but for sake of politeness coughs, as if to say, _I’m right here._ They ignore him. “Wha’ do I _doooooooo…_ ” the boy moans, words slurred. “He’s just—he’s just really really hot and I miss my mom and I think I just really want to eat my burger but it won’ let me…” 

Shiro watches as three things happen all at once: first, he hears muffled laughter and looks up to see Matt leaned over, slapping his knee and phone pointed towards them; two, an ABBA song starts playing on the old jukebox near him, and the formerly sleeping boy’s mouth drops open before scrambling out of the seat, knocking over the napkin dispenser and a glass of half-full water in his haste to get beside it; three, burger boy whisper-yells the words over the chaos, “—eed to puke I think,” and Shiro without thinking reaches across the table to drag the boy out and dodge sleeping boy as he pulls burger boy across the diner towards to door and out into the brisk night air. 

He pulls back burger boy’s hair as he retches onto the sidewalk. It’s quiet all of a sudden, all except for the boy’s heaving breaths, traffic, and the tinny jukebox as the door swings shut. He can see the puffs his breaths make. 

“I think we should get you home. I’ll call you an Uber,” he says to burger boy after he seems to have finished. He wipes his chin—which, objectively should have been gross but then again a lot of things burger boy’s done today have been weird but he’s still pretty in a ridiculous, unfair way—and tilts his head up at Shiro. His eyes glint in the dark, wide and shiny from puking. Purple, almost. “If that’s okay with you,” he adds hastily. 

The boy looks at him for another beat, before starting to cry. Shiro immediately releases him, going into a panic—Oh god oh god oh god fuckfuckfuck _what did I do_ —when the door opens again behind him and he turns to find Matt standing there with a brown paper bag with grease darkening the bottom. “You’re a loser,” he says, not unkindly, shoving the bag at him. 

Shiro accepts it with shaking hands, eyes still darting towards the boy, just in case he runs into the street or something. He’s still sobbing, and has now moved to sit on the curb, running his hands slowly down his face. 

Shiro walks up to him nervously, crouching down and talking in what he hopes is a calm voice. “I uh—have your burger.” 

The boy looks up, tears streaming down his face. “Wrong!” he shouts suddenly, startling both Shiro and Matt. “I killed my burger! I just—I left it there like I didn’t care about it, like it was nothing—oh god I didn’t even get to confess…” and then he starts the howling again, pounding the pavement in agony. “It deserved _so much better_ —don’t think that just because I knew it less than like, a few years means that we weren’t any less part of an epic love story. We were bound for the stars!” he cries towards the sky, words still slurred and lilting but nonetheless disturbing. “Soulmates, meant to bes, oh god—Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise." 

Silently, Matt passes Shiro a messy, disfigured, soaking and dirty burger. He hadn’t noticed Matt had left and gone back into the diner. But then again, when you see a boy mourn a burger by quoting Titanic word for word, chances are you’re a little distracted. 

He holds it out to the boy, and watches as recognition slowly overtakes his features. Burger boy reaches out with quivering fingers and takes the burger. Crowing in delight, words tumbling out of his mouth, he suddenly hurls the burger onto the street and wrenches one of Shiro’s hands towards him, pressing a wet sloppy kiss to it. “Thank you, kind sir,” he slurs. “Also, you’re really hot. Did I tell you that? Wait, wait a sec..” he fumbles for something in his back pocket, making a delighted sound when he retrieves a very cracked phone from his back pocket. “Nice. Nice, very nice.” 

He makes a grabby motion towards Shiro’s face and tugs him down. “Lemme show you something,” he murmurs, squishing Shiro’s face between the crook of his arm, other hand tapping at his phone. “Gimme sec.” 

Then, another delighted sound. “Got it! Here, here,” he directs the phone at Shiro so he can see the screen. It’s so cracked he can barely make out the screen, but it’s his face staring back at him. “That’s _you._ ” Shiro ignores the pink that’s rapidly growing on his cheeks on the screen. “Look,” he coos, just like he did the burger, “Look at how hot you are. Who’s the hottest man Keith’s ever seen? You are!” 

_Keith._

He shakes his head softly, and shrugs off his jacket, draping it on Keith’s shoulders. His leather one was abandoned inside, and besides, Shiro has a dozen of these trench coats at home. It’s comically large on Keith, but it should keep him from freezing. 

The doors swish open again, and they all turn to see sleeping boy, flushed and smiling. “Keith!” he says. “You found beef boy again!” and then he stumbles, and would have fallen straight on his face if Matt hadn’t put an arm out. 

“I think it’s time to get you guys back,” he says, glancing at Keith. “I’ll call an Uber.”

* * *

When the Ford arrives, Keith almost starts crying again. 

Shiro is exhausted, Matt’s already left with a, “Bye bud,” and he can see the sky begin to pinken when he hears the sniffles. Turning, he’s suddenly eye to eye with Keith, who looks on the verge of breaking down. 

“Hey, hey,” he says hastily. “What’s wrong?” He seems like he’s sobering up, albeit it at a snail-pace. The buzz of his phone tells him the car is almost here. 

“You’re _really hot,_ ” he whispers. This is about the 50th time he’s said it, but Shiro still feels flustered. 

“Time to go home,” Shiro whispers back, right as the car pulls up to the curb. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye, beef boy of my dreams,” Keith murmurs sadly. “I want your number though. Please.”

There’s no hesitation when Shiro retrieves the off-brand Sharpie Matt had left him when he’d gone. _Matt always thinks of everything,_ he thinks fondly as he motions for Keith to give him his arm. Keith hands it over, and Shiro pushes the sleeve up of his coat and loops the dark numbers on Keith’s forearm, making sure not to catch any skin as he moves the felt. “Call me when you get home safely,” he says, and then he leads Keith into the car where sleeping boy is already in. Keith stares at the marks on his arm in quiet astonishment. 

They drive off with an address Shiro got from sleeping boy, and he’s left alone to a muffled jukebox, dusty skies, a kiss on the back of his hand and a burger left on the street, driven over by the Ford.

* * *

The next morning, he awakes to a phone call. For a moment, his mouth forms the words, “Keith”, but it’s just Matt and he hangs up when he feels like it. 

A few days pass. Nothing. 

And then a week, and then two, and by then Shiro is thoroughly convinced that he either wrote his number wrong or Keith got murdered or he was just something he dreamt up or—

He just didn’t call.

Which is fine. Of course it’s fine. But worry fades into acceptance tinged with hurt, which was just unfair to Keith. 

It’s a rosy Saturday morning when his phone rings again. He picks up, expecting Matt or utility services again when he hears, “I don’t even fucking like burgers.” It’s Keith. 

“Burgers are fine,” he replies, trying to play it cool, trying not to let his joy bleed into his voice. 

“Fuck,” he hears. “I’m gonna try that again.” And then he hangs up. 

A few minutes later, the phone rings again. Shiro picks it up, and hears Keith begin to say something before he cuts him off, “What’ve burgers ever done to you? Did they let go of the promise? Did they not leave room on the doorframe?”

A pause. “I deserved that. I uh, got back safe though.” His voice sounds nice over the phone, clear and perfect. Not slurred, but that was cuter than it had any right to be.

“Thanks for letting me know two and a half weeks later,” Shiro smiles. “Nice of you to put me at ease.” 

“Sorry? If it makes you feel better I’m rapidly remembering every single embarrassing thing I did that night. Please hang up, come to my house, and stab me.”

“That’s what the Uber driver might’ve done,” Shiro says, shaking his head, still smiling that stupid smile. “That’s what I might’ve thought he’d done. Now if you’d called—”

“I am really fucking sorry,” Keith says quickly, cutting Shiro off. “I have an explanation.”

“By all means,” Shiro laughs. 

“Okay. So, I got home and passed out. But before I did, Lance pushed me into the shower—that’s the other guy that was there—and turned the cold water on. That washed off a lot of the Sharpie, which is weird—”

“It was off-brand,” Shiro cuts in. 

“Oh. Okay. Well, uh, yeah so it washed off a lot but I didn’t notice and fell asleep later before calling you—sorry. But I was gonna the next morning, but Lance kept talking about how hot you were and how much, I, uh, expressed that. So in the end I was embarrassed and intimidated out of my head so I left it alone because I’m kind’ve the worst. That was up until a few days ago when I got beat up by my friends for ignoring a beefcake like you—sorry, their words, but also probably mine—and then I was going to call but the numbers had all smudged off except for three and I remembered there was a seven in it so I tried every single phone number like that and I still couldn’t find you and I even tried every male stripper’s number in town—sorry again, Lance made me—so I was in intense mourning yesterday and this morning.”

“But then my friend Pidge called me a dumbass and said to just ask the waiter that night because Lance said that the waiter was there with you and turns out the waiter at the diner was Pidge’s brother and as soon as she mentioned a ‘jacked up beef boy’ he gave us your number. I’ve been practicing this speech for the past hour and a half and I really really hope you’re not mad because I don’t trust drunk me but drunk me told sober me that you’re really sweet and nice and also I have your jacket. It’s really nice and even if you say no I need to give it back. I wanna be more than just the drunk boy trying to eat a burger to you if that’s okay with you.” 

Keith pants when he finishes, trying to regain his breath, and they’re the only sound on the line for a few beats. 

“Just don’t leave me for the burger,” Shiro says finally, feeling his heart pound. “I’m up to a threesome with one tomorrow at 8:00, though. Safe-word is ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Personally I would prefer ‘yes’, but it’s your choice.”

He can hear the smile in Keith’s voice when he says, “As long as you never get me drunk again, it’s yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://beefy-keefy.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/beefykeefy). prompt gotten [here](http://dailyau.tumblr.com/post/181171707079/its-4-am-and-im-drunk-as-fuck-in-a-mcdonalds-and). kudos and comments appreciated as always !!
> 
> their kid, 10 years later: so how did you guys meet!!   
> Keith and shiro, looking at eachother and sweating nervously: haha well daddy keith had just a _little_ too much fun one night


End file.
